User Input
by furryballsploppedmenacingly
Summary: People really underestimate the amount of paperwork involved in this line of work. Rated M so I don't have to read what ratings actually correlate to.


Note: I write for my own entertainment. It gets ideas out of my head. I wasn't going to post anything, but I like reading other people's stories and I feel a weird sense of obligation to post seeing as I read so much content others post and I would be sad if they didn't post. Feel free to comment or whatever, but just keep in mind this is something I do to entertain myself. I don't proofread things much. I don't plan on continuing with any particular line of thoughts, though I might. And the opinions expressed in my writing are ideas I'm playing with, not necessarily my own viewpoints. Further, I'm not really trying to improve my writing. I guess tips don't hurt, but I am not writing here in hopes of improving my writing really and I'm definitely not writing in hopes of getting more attention for what I write. So just keep that in mind if you do read this and feel like reviewing it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

 **User Input**

I'm sitting cross legged, tucked away in the corner, my back just slightly touching the giant window separating the common room from the rest of Jump City. My tea sits on the right of me. To my left is a stack of disheveled papers-each a handwritten report on a disturbance or incident that occurred in Jump City. In my lap sits a laptop with a tex editor opened to the program file the Titans use to store criminal activity, perpetrator and victim information, locations, times, dates, etc. Basically, whenever a crime happens in Jump, we need to catalog its details. The program, written by Cyborg, can then relate all of the input and relay statistical correlations and potential patterns.

No algorithm is perfect though, which is why the whole team was instructed to collaborate with Cyborg about a year into the project. Better program means better preparation. User input is useless if the program can't correlate and track meaningful information, and a person needs to write the program.

Starfire had a difficult time picking up how to code. And while she could carry a conversation with ease, her English made reading guides and program notes difficult. And while her input is valued, she's better off training than spending so much of her time learning how to code. Robin meets with her regularly to try to talk her through some of the algorithms and see if she has improvements or observations that could be useful.

I input the location of a recent armed robbery. I store weapons seen on the premises within a 24-hour window in a different dictionary. I loop through yet another dictionary cataloging violent activity witnesses reported. I debate altering some of the formatting to improve readability.

Sometimes I think people really underestimate the book-keeping involved in fighting crime.

I don't think the meetings are necessary. The meetings Robin has with Starfire, that is, to improve the program. She's good with writing incident reports. They're very detailed. But she hasn't improved the program and her and Robin have been meeting regularly for years about it now.

She's credited with a few improvements actually, but when Robin explains them to me I can always feel the guilt coming from the both of them. And when I look at Star I can feel fear and anxiety. She's worried I'll ask specifics and she won't be able to answer.

I pretend not to notice this. My empathic abilities often make me feel like I'm intruding on others without meaning to. I can't help but notice the spike in affection, excitement, and anxiety before their meetings. They like each other, but they're too anxious to do anything about it.

It's also none of my business. I often wish I could shut off my empathic abilities. Give people the privacy I'm pretending to give them.

I like inputing data from the incident reports. Most of its thoughtless, but I'm left with a feeling of accomplishment. It's similar to meditating. The task is straightforward and dull, but I can focus on it enough to clear my mind of everything else.

I place the laptop to the side of me and take up my mug of tea. I've decided to drink and let my mind wander for a little bit.

It's early and no one else is awake, so I'm not in uniform yet. Instead I'm in a pair of gray boxer shorts and a wide neck gray t-shirt. Barefoot, no bra, and my hair's looped around a headband, keeping it out of the way. It feels great. Lounging around like this. The clothes are so much softer and looser than my uniform. My hair's grown over the years. It's nice to keep it out of the way. Off my neck. Wrapping it in a headband has the added bonus of giving it a bit of texture and volume too. My hair's exceptionally thin. Starfire's is thick. I remember the feeling of the thick curls touching my neck when I occupied her body. Like it had _weight_. My hair falls a few inches past my shoulders now, but the wispy strands certainly don't have such density to them. I like it off my neck now and again, but it's so lightweight I almost always wear it down during the day. The lightest breeze flutters through it and it feels nice. Peaceful somehow.

I can feel that someone's woken up. It's subtle. As they start to wake up more though, I can feel who it is. It's Beast Boy. Or Changeling or whatever. His mind is groggy, but it's also agitated in the way it gets when he's hungry. Which means he'll be out here soon for food and probably coffee considering this is an early start for him.

I sip at my tea. I need more tea. And Gar will want coffee. I'll start a pot for the both of us, why not. I haven't had coffee in a while.

I watch the coffee brew. Beast Boy coming down the hallway. I can feel his presence approaching. Beast Boy's expressive. He doesn't try to hide anything. And you hardly need to be empathic to know what he's feeling. It used to annoy me. It felt repetitive. I'd feel his emotion, and almost before I could comprehend the feeling he'd be verbally expressing it. Sighing. Giggling. Loudly exclaiming that he was bored or agitated or `pumped'. I wanted to scream ''I know!'', but I've grown accustomed to it now. And in a way it feels nice to be around someone so expressive. Like I'm not invading by feeling what they feel because they planned on sharing with the class anyways.

I hear him loudly clamor into the kitchen. His groggy agitation morphs into surprise, and then quickly excitement. ''Rae you're awake!''

''That I am.''

There's a hike in anticipation and affection. ''Are you making coffee? For me?'' A pessimistic dip. A mix of shame and disappointment. Self doubt. ''Wait how would you know I was even up that's stupid. It's just like you don't drink coffee normally and I _do_ and jeeze I'm so slow in the mornings, I swear.''

''It's for you. But I was going to have a cup.''

Excitement. A glimpse of doubt. It doesn't last. It never does. Deep affection. Wow, lots of affection. It's like bubbling over. Leave it to Beast Boy to get this emotional over a fucking pot of coffee.

He's hugging me from behind now. I try to focus on the coffee dripping, but I can feel the heat in my stomach and I know I'm turned on. Coffee, Raven. Focus on the coffee. But I can't and despite myself, I fixate on his affection, letting myself feel it in detail. I sense mild undertones of desire. Confused eagerness. God I am pervy. Whatever. I lean into him. Arch my back ever so slightly. I feel sudden curiosity and eagerness.

And fear.

Let's be clear here. I am 23 years old and half demon. I'm not evil. I don't want to see anyone in like _genuine_ pain. But he _is_ the one that decided to hug me from behind, and sure a part of me feels guilty for enjoying this, but that part of me is very, very slight in comparison to the other part of me that's absolutely bathing in this mixture of desire and fear. It's sadistic and perverted, and I feel guilty because I probably shouldn't take this any farther and I absolutely intend to take this farther anyways. That guilt is really only feeding my perversion at this point anyways.

My magic shoots out, pinning his hands to the counter and on both sides of my body. I feel a spike in panic from him. It feels amazing. ''Um, Rae, I don't um,'' he nervously laughs, trailing off.

I turn around fully and hop up on the counter. My new position giving me a few inches on him. He feels panicked, uneasy, trapped, fearful, vulnerable. I dig deeper. Desire, excitement. I look down at him. I tilt my head to the side in a twisted imitation of innocence. ''What's wrong? You seem,'' I pause and feel a malicious grin take over my features, ''nervous.''

''I am!'' he immediately offers up. So open. Did I say I grew accustomed to that earlier? That's not the right word. I've grown _amused_ by it. No matter the situation, it's like he can't hide anything. He doesn't even try. Everyone else, I feel this guarded undertone to their more vulnerable emotions. Not Garfield.

I cradle his chin in my hands, causing a massive spike of dread and attraction. I love it. ''Baby, baby,'' I coo as if he's an infant. ''You need to _relax_. You know, _smile_ more.''

Suspicion. His eyes narrow accusingly. ''Oh my god Raven, you're punishing me for trying to get you to smile and laugh and hugging you aren't you?'' Disappointment. ''Alright you've proved your point! Can you let me go now?''

I fix him with the most flirtatious look I can give. ''But I thought we were having _fun_.''

He rolls his eyes. ''You're point has been _made_ Raven, so if that's all I'd like to be let go now.'' Irritation. Shame. And, was that hope?

 _Nice_.

I keep him in place. I reach above my head for a mug. I reach around for the pot of coffee and fill it. Returning the pot, I blow on the surface of the coffee in my mug. I gingerly take a sip.

''This is a good coffee. What is this?'' I reach for the bag of beans and read the label. ''Huh, French roast. How 'bout that.'' He glares. It's not very effective, what with having to look down at him from this position. ''I just don't _feel_ like you're quite ready for this to be over.''

''What does that even mean?''

''Well,'' I sip at my coffee, ''You and I both know I'm empathic right? Now naturally, I'm not one to invade anyone's privacy, but it's hard not to notice how much a part of you is enjoying this. You're excitements almost suffocating, really.''

I feel a shift in his emotions. Confidence, amusement. Dammit. ''Strange approach to seduction, Rae, but I'm into it.'' I release him and he stumbles back. I glare and he laughs hysterically. ''Aw is it no fun once I'm consenting?''

''Don't exaggerate.''

''Least you made me coffee first.'' He starts laughing again at his own stupid joke. Or more like guffaws. His laugh is less than charming. ''Then again, you probably drugged it.''

I glare at him one last time before striding out of the room. I can hear his ridiculous laugh through the steel door. What a moron. At least I can finish up my paperwork in my room.

Wait.

I left it all in the common room. Which means I'd have to walk by Beast Boy to get it.

 _Goddammit_.


End file.
